


Veilless Son

by LeafAdrift (Sillyleaf)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Gen, King Alistair (Dragon Age), The Veil (Dragon Age), veil is down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sillyleaf/pseuds/LeafAdrift
Summary: A fanciful fic based on two interesting ideas.Stuttering sky the veil was torn down. Tumbling, twisted what was. Hero and King want for a moment's peace and fun. Twirling, dancing, and discovery. Who is he beneath the unveiled sun?
Relationships: Alistair/Female Surana (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Surana (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Veilless Son

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted and inspired by tumblr users: elffyness and lightmonger

Torn then taken. The veil was down and the sky bloomed with colors. It was quite pretty Alistair had to admit. If only it had not come at such a cost. Countless lives as people went insane or withered slow deaths but a surprising amount of people survived.

  
  


Now he had a rush of mage elves to contain, his country’s policies tinged with centuries of bias towards race and magical talents. He wasn’t a diplomat, but he bore the burden and was thankful for Surana’s presence. He watched her, while leaning against the fenced courtyard. Her nimble fingers twirling an amber glazed staff so that it whistled through the air. Today had been depressing. Reports and steeled glances. Double meaning dealings and he just wanted to...play. To forget.

Surana made it so easy and before he understood what he was doing before he could correct his behavior to wear the royal mask he was grabbing a practice sword and just laughing. Twirling the blunted blade as Surana’s twirls turned ever more playful, tossing in fancy swings and throws and he was caught in the fun of repeating the movements, less flowing, less elegant and if it were a real blade he’d have lost a hand by now or a few toes after clumsy drops.

There’s a call in the distance, their time is short. He’ll be forced to attend a council meeting. Fight off bigots with a veil of politeness. Sooth and struggle to implement anything worthwhile. “Big finish then?” Alistair says and he moves closer, pushes her hair behind her wonderful tapered ears, tipped in silver adornments. Proud of their points, glittering in the veilless sun. Then she’s grinning and striking a pose, just as playful. She stuns with a series of twirls and then extends her staff and a plume of fractals explode, catching the light in a hazy rainbow.

“Your turn, _My Majesty_ ~”

It’s never ‘your’ in private. Always hers.Teasing and possessive. _My_. And he hates the titles, the position, but Solana makes it less of a burden. For the moment. He was hers. Her King and one day, she’d truly be his Queen. Times were changing. Could he call the veil’s collapse a blessing? “I don’t have such showy moves. But I suppose I’ll see it through.” And he spun his sword, a blush forming under her gaze. It felt like electricity was racing through him. He imagined it arcing out, lighting the mist that lingered from her display. And then ...a tree at the other end of the courtyard was burning and his ears were ringing and he felt very very tired.

“Alistair?”

“I… “ It’s silent and he stares forward, lost, confused. He’s still holding the practice sword, crackling with electricity, remnants, evidence, and he isn’t sure what happened. Then her hand is on his chin, closing his jaw and she leans in, the sword drops from his hand with a clatter. She presses her lips to his. Short and brief as the footsteps grow louder. Alarms are raised. Guards coming to investigate the noise.

“I’ll tell them it was me.” She whispers, and he nods. Still shocked as he feels… It feels… _Who is he?_


End file.
